From the Pages of Mini-Di
It’s Day 17 – IN A ROW! Are you sick of me yet?? Anyway. When I was younger, I figured I could write poetry. Sometimes I wrote things that rhymed, but most of it was free verse. I considered it poetry if I used words that sounded poetic to me, on what I considered poetic themes (i.e. nature and feelings). […]
If you liked Rainy Day Cindy, Part 1, I hope you’re ready! She’s about to take life to a whole new level. In case you’re wondering, I was never bedridden due to a cold as a child. Also, I did not spell as well as this. There are many more spelling mistakes in the rough copy; my mom (also my […]
And here she is, folks. My first protagonist, created and lovingly illustrated when I was six – twenty-seven years ago. (The rough draft is dated Nov. ’84.) Big thanks to my dad, for saving these pages for all this time, and then scanning them for me with such care. I give you… Rainy Day Cindy. This is the front […]
Written on this day, 25 years ago. (How about that. I’ve been journalling for a quarter-century!) May 11 ’85 I loved my birthday! I got a “my little pony Bow tie”! I also got this diary! I got paper and art Kit! The favors were lovely! Necklaces were from Ben. And 35c! I also got a new pink dress from […]
I know this might be overload on the Mini-Di… but this one has to be today, since it’s Earth Day. Here’s what Dilovely journaled in honour or Earth Day, 1990 (age 11, almost 12): When I got home I told N [my best childhood friend – about the idea to go litter-picking]. She thought it was a good idea (especially […]
Okay, since I’m perusing, here is another taste of the writings of a smaller, less abashed, more exuberant Dilovely. Apparently in the Homeschooling days of early spring of 1986 (I was 7), I was taught about Haiku, poems of three lines with syllables numbering 5, 7, and 5. In a tiny spiral-bound notebook (white cover with diagonal turquoise lines on […]
As I think I’ve mentioned, I used to be a prolific diary-writer. I had journals in all sizes, mostly supplied by my dad, and wrote oodles about everything, from the very shallow to the almost-philosophical. Sometimes I look through these volumes (29 and counting, plus supplementary quasi-journals) and am amazed/embarrassed/taken aback/reduced to tears of laughter by the things I wrote. […]
